Silencing the Little Voice
More times than I can count during a roller derby practice, there’s a little voice that starts to pop up:
“wait, I can’t do that!”
“I can’t go that fast! they’re going really fast!”
“What if I can’t skate 25 laps right now?”
“I have to jump over that?! I can’t!”
“I’m kind of tired; I can’t do this”
“I’m not coordinated enough”
“I’m sort of stumbly right now”
“What if I won’t be able to keep up?”
“What if I’m the last one out there?”
None of those thoughts have a chance of being fully expressed during practice, though. It’s sort of horrifying to read them, actually, because I don’t allow myself to really hear them when they come up. I know now that they’re the voice of self-doubt, of fear, of insecurity, and that voice brings nothing but poison darts. So I silence it, over and over again. I smack it away like an annoying mosquito that you can’t ever quite squish. I skate harder in order to silence it. I have to, because taking it all in would shut me down and chain me to that voice.
It’s important, I think, to recognize this voice for what it so often is — fear and anxiety — and to deny it the power that it seeks. That doesn’t mean ignoring all self-talk, but instead recognizing when that little voice is limiting, making you smaller, and attempting to keep you from growing.
I could write about growth, but really I’m just still amused by how often those stupid little darts come flying at me in the middle of practice. You know, *while* I’m actually doing the things that it’s telling me that I can’t.
Clock 'n Roll: Derby, Skating and other Mishaps 
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